


Fight on the Ashes

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [13]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 16:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: As per her habit, Tashok accepts yet another job from a random person, this time on Solstheim!





	Fight on the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> I really thought I'd posted this already, my bad!! Here we have Tash meandering across Solstheim. This is a modded quest.

A successful fight with an adequate patron had been something Teldryn had been missing from his most recent years. Truth be told when a nervous-looking, soft-spoken Orc mentioned she would need assistance outside the Bulwark, he figured she wanted him to escort her. That the weapons on her back and hip were just for show. Much like Mogrul and Slitter.

He was slightly disgusted, and disappointed, when he recognized the settlement they were approaching as belonging to House Dres. Are those pests still around?

A guard quickly halts her, and demands she turn around.

“I’m expected here.” the Orc claims.

Perhaps Teldryn was going to regret following her.

“Yeah, right.” the guard grunts.“I don’t think so. Be on your way.”

Teldryn notices the young Orc’s shoulders tense as she clenches her fists.

“Listen here…” she growls, her tone venomous. “You, _better_ let me pass, or else…”

Something about her voice, or possibly her expression, not that Teldryn would know from behind her, changes the guard’s demeanour. He shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“I… Apologize, sera.” the guard now sounds nervous. “Please, come on in.”

Teldryn, along with an archer Khajiit introduced as Inigo, and a young Dunmer mage called Brelyna follow her in.

His patron stops in front of an auburn coloured Khajiit wearing ragged clothes similar to the other workers, well, slaves.

Whatever the two of them are saying, they say in hushed tones, with the Orc occasionally glancing around at the guards with a frown that only deepens by the minute.

She soon finds her way to the slavemaster, and her ability to sway the guard clearly does not extend to the boss.

“What’s going on here?” she asks.

“House Dres business.” the slavemaster spits. “Keep your filthy nose out of it.”

Mh, not even going to try the friendly route, that one.

“Are these people slaves?” the Orc asks flatly, despite knowing the answer.

“And what if they are?” the slavemaster crosses his arms over.

“Well, I’m not sure if you were aware, but isn’t slavery, well... illegal?”

The slavemaster glares at her.

“That a question people don’t ask around here." he hisses. "The answer can be somewhat… ugly.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” his patron sounds less than impressed. Where did she get the confidence from?

“What do you think? Who are you to be asking all these questions, anyways?”

His patron pauses, clearly at a loss for options.

“I’m a member of the Redoran guard.” the confidence with which she answers would most likely be convincing, were she a Dunmer. Or even dressed like the Redoran guard.

“Ha! No, I’m not falling for that one.” the slavemaster sneers. “Get lost, scum, or I’ll have my men cut out your lying tongue and put you to work.

“Right, my apologies, sir!” she puts her hands up defensively as she cowers away. Must have been false bravado, then. “You won’t see me again!”

She motions to them to walk away, and Teldryn has to summon all his willpower to stop from rolling his eyes at the pathetic exchange. As they exit, he catches sight of her making a small gesture towards the enslaved Khajiit. His eyes worriedly glance at his captors, but he nods nonetheless.

“Are we not going to help?” Inigo inquires, aghast.

“We should do something!” Brelyna adds urgently.

“We will.” his patron’s voice is no longer nervous and fearful, but rather firm and determined. “Just… from a few paces away.”

She turns to him with fire in her eyes.

“Teldryn.” she starts. “How good are you at fighting from a distance?”

“My expertise tends to be up close.” he answers.

“Okay… Mh." she considers her options. "When we start attacking, creep closer. As soon as it looks like the guards might hurt the prisoners, I want you to storm in there and shield them, get them a clean escape route.”

“I see…” Teldryn cracks a grin. This might be fun.

“The rest of you, crouch down and hide, we’re going to hit them from here… Let’s try and take as many down as we can without them noticing.”

The slavemaster seems to have taken to sitting back on his chair, twiddling with his dagger and muttering something to a nearby guard, who nods and walks away briskly. Teldryn glances at his patron, who pulls out a vial of what seems to be poison and dips her arrows' tips into it. She looks to him and tilts her chin up to him, signalling him to make his way to the settlement.

The slavemaster never saw her arrow coming.

Neither did many of his guards it seems. One of them falls as an ebony arrow pierces the back of her neck. Another one is downed by a bound arrow, translucent and shimmering with muted colours. Then another. And another. And one more.

The archers simultaneously take down two more before the remaining guards notice, and Teldryn takes this as his cue.

Soon, Teldryn had summoned a flame atronach and pulled out his sword, lounging at the crossbow-wielding guards.

Multiple arrows and ice spikes fly by him, but never strike too close.

Within a few minutes, the slaves were out, and the members of House Dres, dead.

“Well that was a thrilling fight!” Teldryn smirks as he makes his way towards the Orc. “Good job.”

He hadn’t even noticed her entering the settlement. She must’ve have decided to take on a closer approach. Strange, for an archer.

Even stranger, he sees another flame atronach next to his.

He stares at it, trying to fathom where it came from. It clearly wasn't being hostile.

“That one’s mine.” his patron says in response to his puzzled stance.

He glances at her bound bow, then at the atronach.

“Yeah, that checks out…” he nods to himself.

She walks to the now dead slavemaster, her arrow still lodged deep in his chest. She scowls and pries the dagger from his death — ah! — grip.

The ginger coloured Khajiit she had spoken to accosts them as they head back towards the bulwark, the same way they came. Teldryn doesn’t really listen to the conversation and instead glances around, scouting for any potential danger. Solstheim was not the most hospitable of places, and the last thing they need is for some ash hoppers to start targeting them.

“Teldryn!” her voice startles him.

“Mh?” he quirks an eyebrow.

“We’re headed back.” she tells him as she absent-mindedly twists a ring that’s around her index. What that there before? Teldryn hadn't really paid much attention to his patron's accessories.

Or her clothes for that matter. He realizes now she's indeed wearing some light armour. It had looked like a simple robe at first, but upon closer inspection he can see hardened leather beneath the cloth.

The walk back is silent. Too silent. He looks to his patron and notes her mind is clearly elsewhere. Not good, considering they're still outside the relative safety of the Bulwark.

“So whadya drink?” he asks her.

Tashok’s eyes snap back to reality, she stares at him for a moment.

“Wha…?” is all that comes out of her mouth.

“Alcohol. Booze. Drinks.” he tells her. “Then again, maybe you shouldn’t be having any. You seem a bit unsteady on your feet at the moment.”

Not just because of her daydreaming, but because she frankly doesn't seem very old. And she's been tripping consistently since the fight as her feet drag in the dust.

“I like mead.” she replies, still puzzled. “Why?”

“Well, we’re headed back to Geldis’, right?”

“Oh, yeah, we are.”

“You see, my old patron had a tradition of a nice evening of drinking after a battle well-fought… Though thinking about it, we should probably use more discretion than he did. In general. I still want Sujamma.”

“Sure… that sounds kind of nice…”

She turns to her two companions.

“You guys in?” she asks.

“A reward for doing the right thing is a well-deserved reward!” the Khajiit says. “I’m in. I will not drink in excess. Just a cup will be fine for me.”

“Sure, a little bit shouldn’t hurt.” the Dunmer girl says. “Besides, this is kind of like a break from the College for me. Almost like a vacation, if you ignore the fighting.”

* * *

Tashok takes in a sip of Ashfire mead, enjoying the light and warm sensation as it goes down while listening to Teldryn explaining his previous patron’s unfortunate end.

“And then you made your way here?” she hums as she swirls her mead around the bottle.

“Yep, I figured a couple of outlanders might need my services in navigating the ash-wastes.” he explains. “Much like yourself.”

“Yeah…” she chuckles. “I’d need a guide for Skyrim too… Place is confusing.”

“Ah. An Orc who left the stronghold in the search for adventure, then?”

“Me?! Gods, no. I grew up in High Rock.”

Teldryn’s interest seems to be piqued, and Tashok decides it’s fine to continue speaking.

“The people of Wayrest tolerated me well enough when I was a kid, but…” she pauses, looking for her words. “I guess it’s easier to see a child as innocent and not a threat. Once I hit sixteen, people started seeing me more as a, uh… thug? Rather than as a random girl who likes alchemy. Someone started a rumour I was stealing potions from Master Ancald, and that my apprenticeship was just a guise so I could get access to his stock. That I was going to steal his notes and sell the off or some ridiculous claim like that...”

“Funny, accusations of thievery and deception are usually left to Khajiit or Dunmer.” Teldryn rolls his eyes.

“It was dumb… but it made a whole scene, and my relationship with my master just went downhill from there…”

She’d felt betrayed, humiliated even, when Ancald insisted she empty her pockets and lead him to her bunk at the docks to prove none of her belongings hid his potions or materials. His eyes had fallen on some of her own health potions, accusingly. She’d had to fumble through her explanation that she did in fact, buy those potions from him and only managed to convince him when they returned to the shop and she showed him the inventory and ledger.

That had been the first of their many arguments.

She pouts and takes another sip.

“For what it’s worth, I’ll have your sword a bit longer while I’m on Solstheim.” she tells him. “I can use a fighter who knows what he’s doing. How would you like to go on an ash-spawn hunt?”

“Finally, a patron with taste.” Teldryn smirks and clinks his bottle with hers before taking a swig.

She also takes a hearty sip, clearly thinking about something. She turns to him, hesitates for a brief second before speaking.

“Also, this might sound strange, but… um… do people usually wake up in some run-down temple when they sleep here? Because I woke up in some run-down temple when I slept here…”


End file.
